Aeternitas
by Systatic
Summary: HP/Twilight - The prophecy had a consequence—one that none foresaw. After Voldemort's gruesome defeat, Ron and Hermione ship Harry off to a quiet reprieve to heal and figure out just what is happening to their best friend. HP/JH, Harry/Jasper, Slash.
1. Preface

**Aeternitas**

_A Harry Potter and Twilight Crossover Fanfiction_

_By Systatic_

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**Blanket Disclaimer**

I do not own Harry Potter or Twilight and I am not affiliated with them in any way. This story is purely for entertainment value.

**As a warning:** This story contains **slash**, otherwise known as **homosexual** pairings, i.e. romantic liaisons between two men.

This is a _Harry Potter/Jasper Hale_ story.

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**Summary**

The prophecy had a consequence—one that none foresaw. After Voldemort's gruesome defeat, Ron and Hermione ship Harry off to a quiet reprieve to heal and figure out just what is happening to their best friend.

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**Preface**

* * *

Harry's lips quivered as he stared at his blood stained hands. The rich, dark red of his vitality mocked him. He shivered. _What am I?_

"He can't stay." The voice was firm, demanding. Harry knew, even from his spot on the infirmary bed, that Hermione would not budge on her decision. He'd have smiled at the thought if he hadn't forgotten how to.

"Why not?" This one was Ron; he'd know that indignant squawk anywhere.

"Because of the memories, Ronald!" she yelled. Harry could imagine her flailing arms and bright eyes. "He won't heal! Don't you see? He's hurting! We can't let him stay!"

There was a pause. Then, "What do you think we should do, Hermione? Just leave? What about everyone else?" Rhythmic tapping on the floor caught his attention; Ron was pacing.

Hermione let out a sigh. Harry shifted in his bed at the sound; he didn't like it. The last time she had sighed like that was when she had decided not to return her parent's memories. It was the sound of defeat, concession. Hermione shouldn't make sounds like that—she was the rock in their clumsy, unstable relationship. "Ron," she whispered, "Harry won't recover here. You _saw_ him, what he looked like. There's something going on; something that's affecting him. We need to find out what it is and we can't do it here."

There was shuffling, fabric against fabric—a hug?—and when the youngest male Weasley spoke again, his voice was muffled. "I know, 'Mione. It's just… my family; Percy, Fred, and Dad... Mum is heartbroken. Leaving would hurt her so much more."

"She'll understand, Ron. Your family loves Harry, too. They can see he's falling apart. This is the best thing we can do for him, and it's not like we're leaving forever. We'll write, and floo, and when everything is fixed, we can come back."

Harry knew Ron was reluctant. He knew that Ron loved him; just like he loved his family and he was torn between the two. But, Harry had to agree with Hermione—staying in England was painful. It hurt.

His eyes drifted closed again, trying to stem the flow of burning tears. He'd been the strong one for so long and now, now that it was all over (because it had to be; he couldn't take more adventure, he was done, broken—a shell), now that he had no purpose, he felt so lost. Harry sucked in a ragged breath. Running went against his every instinct—he had never run from his problems before.

The prophecy… he had expected to die fulfilling it—_wanted_ to die fulfilling it. He would have been _happy_ to die for it; it was a good death—noble, very Gryffindor; but, he didn't, in the end. He lived.

Harry had torn out Voldemort's black, slimy, still-beating heart with his bare hands and crushed his cold, scaled neck with his foot. He had sent the killing curse at the prone body, just to be sure, just as Voldemort had done to him mere minutes before.

He had watched as the body had bubbled, burned, collapsed in on itself as the magic that held it together collapsed under the acidic green of the _Avada Kedavra_, had watched as each and every one of his marked followers had screamed, collapsed, writhed, pleaded, and, eventually, followed their master in death, their left arms crumbling into ash.

He felt a brief flash of thankfulness that Snape and Malfoy Junior were already dead—they didn't have to share the agony of their former Death Eater comrades.

He nearly whimpered, remembering the tantalizing feel of death; so peaceful, so effortless. It would have been so easy to simply run from Voldemort's wrath—to take the easy way out.

But he hadn't.

And now, it was impossible.

Because now, he wouldn't—couldn't—die. Ever.

Harry wanted to scream.

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**Reviews are appreciated.**

All signed reviews are replied to.

_**I am looking for a beta for this story. If you are interested, contact me.**_


	2. Chapter 1

**Aeternitas**

_A Harry Potter and Twilight Crossover Fanfiction_

_By Systatic_

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**Chapter One**

* * *

Ron and Hermione were wary, even overprotective, around him now. They watched his every move. After the episode where they had walked in on him, covered in his own blood, sobbing, with no visible wounds, they never let him out of their sights.

It had been four years since they had left England behind. Four years, two months, and sixteen days since Voldemort's demise. Three years, six months, seven days since Ron and Hermione married. The three of them were twenty-one now.

He counted. He always did.

Harry sighed, fingers fiddling with a loose string on his shirt, before turning back to the child on the couch next to him. Harry traced slender, loving fingers across a smooth, plump cheek. Andromeda had died a month after they left; the loss of her husband and daughter had taken its toll, and while she wasn't old, she hadn't been in perfect health in the first place. In a last ditch effort to injure Harry and prevent the then teen's victory, Death Eaters, under Voldemort's command, had poisoned Andromeda—a slow, painful death as her organs disintegrated one by one.

Without his grandmother to take care of him, Teddy had come into his life.

He had been grateful, in a way, when Remus and Tonks named him Teddy's godfather. They had known, almost intuitively, that he most likely wouldn't have a family of his own—an insight that proved true when medical tests declared him sterile. Harry's capture and subsequent torture during the war had exposed him to dangerous, debilitating curses that had crippled ability to procreate. He had been devastated—the only thing he had ever wanted was a family of his own.

Teddy had been just what he'd needed. His eyes slid shut, remembering. He had been falling apart and Ron and Hermione had been frantic; neither of them knew what was going on with him.

And then—he buried his fingers in soft ebony locks, identical to his—Teddy came. He smiled slightly; his little hero. The child had been a godsend.

The fire flickered, casting shadows and warmth over the room. The wood sparked and cracked, interrupting his musing; he would have to put another log in it soon—it was dying down.

They were moving again tomorrow, this time to somewhere more remote. Harry guessed that both Ron and Hermione weren't enjoying the California sun—he had heard their complaints numerous times since arriving. He couldn't blame them, though; he shared their distaste for the heat.

"Harry?" a soft voice asked—Hermione. He looked up, gaze settling on her robed figure where it was silhouetted against the doorway. He hadn't heard her come in. "Is everything alright?"

He nodded, "Yeah. Teddy fell asleep; I didn't have the heart to move him."

She smiled softly, "Alright. Try to get some rest, though, yeah? We have a big day tomorrow." Her warm brown eyes drifted to Teddy, whose head was pillowed in his lap. "He should probably sleep in his bed; it'd be more comfortable."

Both Hermione and Ron had mellowed after the war. Taking care of Harry when he was at his worse had been chaotic for them, and an exercise in patience, but he would be eternally grateful for their support.

Harry's head bobbed in agreement and he stared after her as she ascended the stairs, the silk fabric of her dressing gown whispering against her skin. He yawned and, deciding that her advice had some merit, shifted, nudging Teddy lightly. "Come, my prince," he said. "It's time for bed."

Teddy's eyebrows scrunched and he whined, "But 'm comfy."

Harry laughed quietly, "No arguments, kiddo. Up we go." He hefted Teddy from the couch, ignoring his protests.

"But Ma—" he whined, little arms and legs wrapping around Harry's shoulders and waist respectively, "'Dun wanna'!" He buried his tiny head in his Ma's neck, enjoying the warmth.

The sable-haired man grinned at the title. Teddy had called him that since he was but a toddler and had adamantly refused to address him as anything else, much to Ron's disgruntlement and loud, pouting complaints. Hermione had merely watched her husband's tirade in amusement. He could see, grudgingly, where the kid got the name from; he was small, even petite for a man—a consequence from years at the Dursleys' and his own neglect of his health; his hair, still a riotous mess with a mind of its own, brushed the bottom of his shoulder blades since Hermione adamantly refused to let him cut it; and he was soft-spoken and gentle—nothing like Ron's tall, bulky frame, and loud voice.

He traversed the stairs slowly, careful not to jostle his little prince, and laid him on his bed, pressing his kiss to his smooth forehead. "Goodnight, dear one," he whispered, giving Teddy's cheek one last caress.

"Night, Ma," came an answering murmur.

Harry shut the door with a smile.

* * *

"Ma! Ma! Ma! Are you ready? Let's go! Let's go!" Teddy's squealing voice brought a small smile to Harry's face. He stooped, picking up the squirming five-year-old and gave him an Eskimo kiss.

"Good morning to you too, Teddy," he teased.

The child blushed. "Morning, Ma," he offered, ghosting a sweet kiss on Harry's cheek.

Harry laughed, setting him down on his feet, and picked up his wand. "Grab the blankets on the couch, will you, Teddy?" He flicked his wand, and the remaining pots and pans soared into their respective boxes, before shrinking to the size of a matchbox. He piled them into another container, charmed to be weightless.

"Here, Ma!" Teddy shouted, proudly carrying the blankets he asked for into the breakfast nook. Harry chuckled and pointed to a cardboard box on the ground, watching with raised eyebrows as Teddy clumsily stuffed them inside.

"Man, Harry! I dunno' how you stand it! I'd hate to be called something girly like that!" Harry rolled his eyes in reply; Ron's usual greeting was lost—again—in his need to defend Harry's male pride against a stubborn child (though Harry often wondered who warranted the title of 'stubborn child').

"Careful, Ron," he cautioned, eye glittering with mirth, "Teddy doesn't like it when you mock him." He smirked at Ron's answering grimace. Teddy had inherited his father's knack for pranks. He stole a glance at Teddy from the corner of his eyes to see him glaring at Ron darkly, his cheeks flushed with displeasure. Harry very nearly cackled in anticipation.

It turned out that Remus, not Sirius or James, had been the most _inventive_ (note: vindictive) of the Marauders.

"Ignore him," Hermione muttered as she hurried past him, a miniature parade of books floating behind her. Harry rolled his eyes again when Ron whined at his wife's dismissal. He cuffed Ron on the arm, his swing barely moving him.

"Be a man, alright?" Ron grinned at him, eyes flashing, making Harry regret his words. He _knew_ what was going to happen next.

"Oh, sure, Harry," he snickered, patting Harry's hair condescendingly, "Mister I'm-so-manly-that-my-son-calls-me-his-mum!"

"Shuddup," Harry grumbled, smacking Ron's mocking hand from his head. _I won't fall for it. I won't fall for it. It's stupid. Ignore him. _Ron always picked on him about his height, his hair, and, lately, Teddy's name for him. Harry should be immune to it by now. "Not everyone can be as freakishly tall as you!"

"Hermione's taller than you, mate!" Ron crowed. His laughter increased at Harry's blush—his height was a weak point that Ron loved exploiting.

"I said shut up!" Harry spluttered, hands waving in the air.

"Yeah, shut up!"

"Teddy! Language!"

"But Ma!" he argued.

"No 'buts!'" Harry snapped.

"Boys!" The three fell silent at Hermione's bellow, standing frozen like a deer in headlights. "There's no time for arguing! We have an appointment with the Realtor in half an hour. We need to use the portkey, pick up the car, _and_ get down there in time. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am," three voices chorused.

Hermione smirked, hands on her hips. _I've still got it._ "Well, what are you standing there for? Get dressed! All of you!"

* * *

Harry huffed from his seat next to Teddy. Hermione was fretting over him, as usual. It was endearing, though, and he appreciated the sentiment. Both Ron and Hermione always took such good care of him. "Now, Harry," she said, her torso twisted around in the passenger seat of the car so she could look at him, "if you feel uncomfortable, please don't hesitate to tell us. You don't need to say hello—we all know that you don't like crowds and I'm sure that Ms. Yearly won't be offended if you don't greet her." She stopped for a breath, "Teddy will stay in the car with you because he helps keep you calm. Okay?"

He nodded glumly, not meeting her eyes, "Okay."

She sighed, reaching back and grasping his chin, bringing his eyes to meet her own. "Harry, there's nothing to be ashamed of." Hermione's voice was firm, resolute, "Don't go thinking that this is a problem for any of us, because it's not. We love you. I just worry about you and I don't want to push you. We'll take things a step at a time, okay? Port Angeles is smaller than San Diego—" Harry briefly thought the name sounded odd with her accent, "—so the crowds won't be as large. It's much cooler here, too, more like London than any other place we've stayed. And we'll be a ways from the city—if we decide to buy this house, at any rate. It'll be okay." Her large doe-like eyes were reassuring and he unconsciously relaxed his tense muscles. He nodded more firmly this time.

"It'll be okay," he repeated, his own voice a mere whisper. She smiled tenderly at his determination and patted his cheek before opening the car door.

Harry felt a tentative touch on his arm and turned to look at Teddy, who was looking at him with a gentle smile. "I'll protect you, Ma," he announced, climbing into Harry's lap. The corners of Harry's mouth turned up and he wrapped his arms around his adopted son, chin resting on the top of his head.

The duo watched Ron and Hermione converse with the Realtor—or rather, Hermione converse while Ron stood back, scratching his head like a monkey. Harry giggled with Teddy as they made fun of Uncle Ron, their laughter becoming more audible when Ron gave up trying to understand his wife and began making faces at his best friend and nephew through the car windshield.

Harry ducked his head, hiding his face in Teddy's shoulder, when the Realtor looked over, studying him with sharp eyes. _Nosy spinster, _Harry grimaced to himself. He missed Ron's soft, protective smile in his direction, before he went over to distract the woman from her scrutiny with inane questions about their new house.

After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione and Ron clambered back into the car. Hermione turned to face Harry, running a hand through her curly hair. "That woman was awful—asked far too many personal questions to be professional, surely," she huffed, before holding up their new keys with a grin, "But we've got the keys to the house!"

Harry gave a weak smile while Teddy cheered, bouncing in his lap. "Ma, will you help me pick out the colors for my room?" he asked, trying to cheer him up.

The raven nodded, "Of course, Teddy-bear. What would you like?"

"Green this time! With blue! And yellow! And red!" Harry smiled, indulging the child as he talked about how he wanted his room decorated and how Harry would love it so much he'd come to live in there with him forever and ever.

He squeezed the boy in a hug, his eyes becoming suspiciously wet. He caught Ron's eyes in the rear-view mirror and gave a sad grin, receiving a blinding smile in return. Hermione reached back without looking and patted his knee. Harry buried his nose in Teddy's soft black hair and breathed in his scent, "Anything you want, my prince."

* * *

The house was beautiful, that much was obvious. It was large, spacious, and open, but not overly gaudy, which Harry appreciated. The exterior, a neo-eclectic mix of traditional and modern architecture, was decked in simple sage-green shingles, classic white shutters and moldings, and black roofing that contrasted nicely with the surrounding foliage. Tall, leafy, evergreen Douglas fir and Western hemlock trees seemed to embrace the third story, which was almost completely walled in glass.

_It'd be a nice play room_, Harry mused. He would like that, as would Teddy. They were both very fond of the outdoors and it'd provide a way to connect to the forest even when the weather was bad.

Getting unpacked had only taken a few minutes. Afterward, Ron and Hermione watched from the covered porch as Harry played with Teddy on the front lawn. The cloud cover protected them from the worst of the sun's rays, though it was likely to rain later in the day.

"He's getting better, don't you think?" Hermione said.

Ron nodded, "Yeah. It's been a long time coming. I don't know how I'd have held up if I were him. Finding out that…" He abandoned his sentence and shook his head, taking a sip of iced tea as he leaned back into the wooden bench.

Hermione sighed, entwining her free hand with his. "Teddy has been a big help; Harry was lost without anything to do—he'd gone so long just surviving because he was the only one that could kill Voldemort. We both saw how he was afterwards. Teddy's given him a purpose again." Ron's hand squeezed hers reassuringly. She looked up at him, brown eyes searching. "Ron, do you… do you ever regret leaving England?"

Ron paused for a second, thinking. "Honestly?" he said. "No. I didn't like the idea at first, leaving so suddenly after the war, but it was the right thing to do." He gestured to Harry, "He needed us, and if I'm truthful, we needed him too.

"It was a given that Mum wasn't going to live long after Dad's death. Seeing her wasting away like she was… I wouldn't have been able to handle that—I was surprised that she lasted for a whole year without him. Ginny was staying with Luna, and everyone else was out of the house. Besides them, there was nothing holding us there except our friends, and they understood. Hell, anyone with eyes would've understood why we had to leave."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "It's been nice, the four of us. Like our own little family."

She laid her hand over her belly, locking eyes with her husband. They both grinned widely.

* * *

Both Ron and Hermione shared a smirk as they watched Harry plop down at the kitchen table and rest his head on his arms. His hair was messier than usual and he had a fresh set of clothing on. "Tuckered out?" Hermione quipped.

Harry groaned in reply to her question. "My little prince has become a little devil. _I_ was soaked by the end of _his_ bath. I don't know how he thinks he can get away with that."

Hermione giggled, "Oh, but he does, doesn't he? You let him." Harry rolled his eyes and nudged her shoulder lightly.

"Yeah, yeah," he pouted, turning away from her amused gaze.

The room they were gathered in was bare, almost empty save for the appliances—old models, Harry observed—and the cooking utensils and transfigured—and certainly temporary—table set. Harry made a note to order some furniture in the near future. They had developed a habit of keeping only the necessities when they moved and leaving large, heavy things like couches and dressers behind.

"Cheer up, mate," Ron grunted. "It could be worse. At least it's a kid and not one of Hagrid's _pets_." The trio grimaced at the thought. They had had enough experiences with the Hogwarts' Groundskeeper's blast-ended skrewts to last them a life time. One of their last lessons with the half-giant had been a demonstration on how to clean the cantankerous, crab-like creatures, a session that ended in burns and singed clothing.

"Moving on," Hermione interrupted. "We'll need a cover story for the rest of the town. I'm not letting Harry enroll in the school—it'd be a waste of time. What I'm worried about, though, is whether or not you'll be getting out of the house."

Ron rubbed his chin in thought before speaking, "How about he does the grocery shopping? One of us can go with him and Teddy—he'll be out taking Teddy to primary school anyway; it's not like he'll allow us to do it."

Harry shifted uneasily, fists clenching on the tabletop. "I—I don't know. Do you think I could handle it?"

Ron shrugged, "It shouldn't be too hard. What can a few people do, you know? If anything, the muggles will be nosy, but that's about it. You can get out quickly if that happens." He grinned, "We all know how great of an escape artist you are. If it doesn't work out, we can just leave. We're going to leave that option open for all of us; Herm and I will be around, don't forget."

Hermione nodded, "As long as they don't pester Harry about his age and schooling, we'll be fine. The four of us should be able to stay here for a few years without problem before Harry needs to start using glamours."

Harry looked away, mood spoiled at the mention of his abnormality.

Hermione leaned across the table, once again taking her hand in his. "Harry, you know that I wouldn't suggest this if I didn't think you could do it. We'll do this one step at a time; starting with small groups will be easier than living in a large city again. You never came out of the house, remember?" Harry bit his lip, nodding. "Port Angeles is a small city, but not so small that people will come knocking on our doors; they'll only have around a few hundred—" Harry flinched at the number and she squeezed his hand in response "—children in Teddy's primary school, and maybe forty, at most, people will be in their stores at a given time. You won't have each and every single person talking to you, and there's always the choice of coming home."

"Okay," he whispered, returning her squeeze. He hated acting like a weak damsel in distress, hated the brooding silence and paranoia he was prone to. It wasn't fair to his family or himself.

"Alright. We'll be enrolling Teddy tomorrow. I know how you want him to have a normal childhood, and I understand, but remember that home-schooling is always an alternative. When you leave the house, one of us will be with you; I won't leave you to the sharks," she winked. "We'll be using the names we used in San Francisco, so Ron and Hermione Wesley, and Henry James. You'll be my adopted brother. Sound okay?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. We're still calling you Harry, though. You can't get out of that, mate."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Harry is a nickname for Henry, you dolt. I've told you this before. We only changed our names so it would be harder for people to follow our trail, and god knows you'd slip up if we used something completely different than what we have now."

The redhead pouted, "Herm, come on. I'm not _that_ bad at remembering names." He quailed at her blank stare, letting out a soft breath of relief when she turned away.

"Ignoring the prat at the table," she continued, disregarding Ron's indignant 'Hey!', "I'm going to go down tomorrow and tour the school. You can come if you'd like; it'd probably be a good idea. I think Teddy has come far enough with his metamorphmagus abilities that he could go for a while without losing control. The school day won't be more than six hours long."

Harry sulked a bit at the mention of his son being away for six hours a day. "So I'll be able to take him to and from school, yes? And it's only six hours?" he asked.

"Yes," she agreed. "Harry, don't give me that look—I know you don't like the idea of leaving Teddy with strangers, but I'm not letting you floo all the way to England to leave him with Ginny again just so he's out of our reach. That was ridiculous."

Harry looked away, admonished. _I can't help it if I'm a little protective, _he grumbled internally. He ignored the voice in his head screaming '_a _little_ protective?_' in disbelief.

"Now, does everything sound alright?" she asked. Harry and Ron nodded their assent. "Perfect. All we need is furniture, which Harry will order later—choose what you want, since I decorated the last house."

The sable-haired man gave a hushed 'okay'. The money left behind by his godfather, Sirius, had seen them through their many moves. Harry knew that it would take several lifetimes of frivolous spending to make a large dent. The Potters, on the other hand, had not been outrageously rich like their darker counterparts. Where families like the Blacks and Malfoys focused on financial wealth, the Potters were great connoisseurs of knowledge.

It had come as a surprise to see that Draco Malfoy, his childhood rival, had left him his entire estate and fortune. His last testament had stated that the time of the Malfoy family was over, and he could find no better person, no one more deserving, and no one he could trust more, to receive the Malfoy name, assets, and properties than Harry.

Harry was saddened to find out that someone that young—other than he, himself—had foreseen their death, had known that they would not live through the upcoming conflict—had _counted_ on that.

Draco had charged him with rebuilding the Wizarding community into a better image. Since Harry hadn't remained in the Wizarding world, he had left a few vaults and explicit instructions to several of his trustworthy friends. He received bimonthly updates on the affairs, legislations, and political and social events that the Malfoy holdings funded.

He hoped Draco would be proud to know that the Malfoy name had reached a new level of respect with the Chosen One's backing. The deceased teen deserved to have his sacrifice honored.

That night, while Harry was ensconced in his hastily transfigured bed, Teddy at his side, he slept peacefully, a sign of good things to come.

_ 'Potter, the most important thing is that you live a life where you're happy. I've had enough of your pathetic sulking to last a lifetime. And, since Merlin knows that you'll stir up trouble where-ever you go; do employ those Slytherin qualities of yours to get out of it. Your bumbling Gryffindor self could use some of our finesse once in a while._

_ 'You turned out to be an alright guy, Potter, even if you are walking fashion disaster. Don't blame yourself for my death. I'm sure I went out with style. I am, after all, a Malfoy.'_

* * *

**Reviews are appreciated.**

All signed reviews are replied to.

_**I am looking for a beta for this story. If you are interested, contact me.**_


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